The same friend that wrote A Penny For Your Thoughts wrote another note on Facebook today that I thought was, again, thought-provoking and meaningful. It’s a philosophical piece that reflects on personal identity.

A funny thing happened to me this morning: I looked into the same mirror and gave myself the same vacant and lackadaisical stare that greets me every other morning. It really isn’t funny, but more expected. Every day is the same, every minute identical to the prior, which makes me wonder if anything will ever change. It has to. I’m going to college in a few months, but that will just lead to the same mediocrity in a different setting. Am I destined to live the same day over and over again forever? Who am I that I will just let that happen? Who am I… A question that has been brought up many times, but not enough to be answered. Who am I? I am Roger, Rog Pog, Raj Mataj, chipmunk, and anything else I have been named. But their all just names, so Who am I? Aren’t I supposed to know by now, at such a pivotal point in my life, who I am and what I want? I’m going to college soon, all to determine my future, but it all means nothing since I don’t know what or who I want to be. Who am I, and what is my purpose? It has to exist; I can’t just be floating along waiting for nothing. So why am I here? Why not Hawaii, Spain, Africa, Asia, or even another world altogether in a distant galaxy? Who am I that I am here and not there? Who am I? I do many things; I make you laugh, I talk, and unfortunately sometimes keep talking. I listen to you, I help you, and in doing so expect nothing in return from you. You love me for me. You appreciate my very presence, the opportunity to say hello is never lost. I am trusted by you. But still the question presses, Who am I? With all that’s happened to me I would think I would know by now. Seventeen years of experiences that are unique to me define my past and what I’ve done. The people I spent time with and hose whom I’ve avoided and all the things I’ve done or not done, all of that is my past. And what is my past without me? The world is entirely different; no one would know me because I would not be. Everything I’ve done is undone and the world changes because of it. My past defines what I have done with myself. You enjoy my presence, and I enjoy yours. I do many things just to make you happy or at the very least content. Who am I… As I sit here and write this, it occurs to me that maybe the question is not always "Who am I?", but rather, "Who are YOU?"